Page 57 of Shatter Me

“I know.” He takes another step closer, and I hate how my body responds to his proximity. “I had plans for us this weekend. The kind that involved not leaving my bed except for absolute necessities.”

My cheeks flush at the implication. “And you couldn’t spare thirty seconds to tell me that?”

“I’m not...” He pauses, choosing his words carefully. “I’m not used to this, Natasha. To want someone’s company beyond the physical. To actually care what someone thinks when I have to leave.” His ice-blue eyes meet mine. “To being so wrapped up in someone that I can barely focus on work because I keep thinking about how they take their coffee or scrunch their nose when they’re reading.”

I set the vase down, my anger wavering. “You notice how I scrunch my nose?”

“I notice everything about you.” His voice drops lower. “And it terrifies me how much I want to keep noticing more.”

“So you pushed me away.”

“I panicked.” He closes the distance between us. “I’m sorry. I don’t... I don’t apologize often, but I am sorry.”

The sincerity in his voice makes my chest tight. Here stands Dmitri Ivanov, who can silence a room with a look. He admits he panicked because of how much he cares for me.

I set the vase down on the coffee table. “Dmitri...”

Before I finish my thought, I close the distance between us and press my lips to his. The kiss is different this time—not the usual calculated passion, but something honest. His arms wrap around me, pulling me closer as if he can’t bear any space between us.

“I want you,” he breathes against my mouth. “Not just like this. Not just for tonight.”

My heart pounds against my ribs as his fingers thread through my hair. “What are you saying?”

“This isn’t casual for me anymore.” His glacier-blue eyes lock onto mine, stripped of their usual guard. “I meant what I said before—you’re mine, Natasha. Only mine.”

I trace my fingers along his jaw. “And what exactly does being yours mean?”

“It means I want all of you.” He kisses me again, deep and possessive. “Your morning coffee scowls, your passionate arguments about art preservation, your fierce loyalty to Sofia.” His thumb brushes my bottom lip. “Everything that makes you uniquely, infuriatingly you.”

“Even when I threaten you with vases?”

A rare, genuine smile crosses his face. “Especially then. Your fire draws me in like a moth to flame.”

I kiss him again, softer this time. “I’m still mad at you for this morning.”

“I know.” His hands slide down to my waist. “Let me make it up to you.”

“What exactly did you have in mind?” I trail my fingers down his silk tie, expecting something elaborate and over-the-top since it’s Dmitri.

“How about we order some takeout and watch a movie?”

I blink, certain I must have misheard him. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Takeout. Movie. Here.” His lips quirk up at my obvious shock. “Unless you’d prefer a five-course meal at Le Bernardin?”

“No, it’s just...” I study his face, looking for the catch. “You don’t strike me as a takeout and movie guy. I figured your idea of making it up to me would involve flying me to Paris for dinner or buying out an entire restaurant.”

“I can do that if you prefer.” His thumb traces circles on my hip. “But I thought perhaps we could try something... normal. Unless the great Natasha Blackwood is too sophisticated for Chinese food and Netflix?”

“You know how to use Netflix?” I can’t help teasing him.

He gives me a look that’s half-amused, half-exasperated. “I’m a businessman, not a caveman. I do know how modern technology works.”

“Could have fooled me with those fountain pens you insist on using.” I tap his chest. “But okay, Mr. Ivanov. Surprise me with your takeout expertise. What are we ordering?”

“There’s an excellent Szechuan not far from here. Their dan dan noodles are surprisingly authentic.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You eat dan dan noodles? From a takeout place?”

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